


relent

by skuls



Series: William AU [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Post-Episode: s09e16 William
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 15:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14896749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: Scully decides not to give up her son.





	relent

**Author's Note:**

> for my anon on Tumblr who asked for a 9x16: William AU, and for my own hurt feelings after partaking in the episode. (i cried.) in all seriousness, i needed this. i technically wrote this as part of my season 9 viewing, but i’m actually just cheating on my rewatch series, mostly because this was too good of a prequel to silent conversations/noise echoing series, but also because you cannot put stories in two serieses on ao3. (a shame.)

Later, Scully won’t be able to believe how close she came. That she almost gave up her son. 

At the time, it seems like the only option. The only way to keep William safe. Even with William lying safely in his crib, happy and contentedly sucking on his pacifier. She looks down at him, and all she can see is the blood on the sheet, William crying and crying and crying. All she can see is a life of pain and fear for them both, one that may end in her not being able to protect him in the end. One that may include Mulder not coming home at all. 

She doesn't want to lose her son, but isn't it better that she loses him to someone who can give him a good life? Love him the way he needs to be loved? Someone who can protect him, make sure he never has to fear for anything?

Monica tries to talk her out of it. She grips Scully's hands in hers, tells her how much she will regret it if she gives William up. Tells her that there is no guarantee that he'll be any safer with another family than with her. Tells her that the people who want to harm William operate through the government, who also control adoptions, and wouldn't it be easier for them to find him, then? Scully has arguments for all of it. She'll find someone to hide him safely, make sure he's never found, she'd do anything to keep him safe. Anything. Even something as excruciating as this. 

She's out of her mind, more than determined, ready to call Social Services right away. She's halfway out of the room before Monica catches at her arm. “Dana, I just want you to think this through,” she whispers softly. “I don't want you to do anything you'll regret.”

“I won't regret this,” Scully hisses, and her teeth are clenched so tightly that her jaw hurts, her teeth are almost chattering as if she is cold. “I won't. I wouldn't regret anything that keeps my son safe.” She’s a liar, but she tells herself that she can be selfless, for once, that she can make the decision that betters William’s life.

“And who is better equipped to do that than his mother?” Monica says, almost pleading. “Dana, please. You're not thinking straight, you've had a horrible couple of days, of course you're upset and worried, but I want you to please, please think about this before you do something rash.”

_ It'll never be over,  _ Jeffrey Spender had said to her. When she'd protested that  _ she _ could protect him, he'd said simply,  _ And if you can't? Look at me… what they did. Is this what you want for your son? _ It isn't. She wants nothing less. She only wants his safety, his normality, and she knows Mulder wants the same thing. After all they've suffered, all the people around them have suffered. Her daughter, who died afraid and alone, surrounded by people who were strangers. She doesn't want that for William. Never. 

She shakes her head firmly, almost hysterically. “No. I have to do this. Just let me do this.” Monica shakes her head, and Scully repeats herself, her voice rising until she is almost yelling, nearly shouting her words with anger. 

Behind her, William suddenly begins to cry.

Scully wipes her face with trembling fingers. “Will you take him,” she says in a soft voice. “Please.”

Monica lets go of her arm gingerly, nods. Scully swallows back more tears, turns away. Leaves the room as Monica whispers soothing things to William. 

She calls Social Services out in the kitchen, her fingers trembling over the keypad. The fish tank burbles in the hall, and William sobs. Her eye catches on the pictures her mom puts up on the fridge, and her resolve almost falls away. She feels like she is going to throw up. She dials the number anyway. 

Monica exits the nursery with William in her arms. His head rests against her shoulder as he sucks at his pacifier, his eyes bright. He reaches for Scully as Monica draws closer; Scully shuts her eyes and turns away, shame warming the back of her neck. The phone rings and rings and rings. 

“Dana, I just want you to think this through,” Monica says softly. “Just take a little time. Please. And if you decide you still want to do this then, I promise that I will do everything I can to help you.” 

Someone picks up on the other end, their voice cheerful and bright. Scully hangs up the phone in one stomach-turning motion. She turns to William and Monica, chokes out, “Thank you for everything you've done, Monica. But I'd like you to leave.”

Monica's jaw clenches as she nods. She passes William to Scully gently, pats Scully's hand where it curls around William's back. “Just take some time, Dana,” she says softly. “That's all I ask. After all I've seen you go through, seen John go through…” Scully clenches her teeth hard at the reminder, nearly angry at it. “Just think about it,” Monica finishes. And then she gathers her purse off of the counter and leaves, the door clicking shut behind her. 

William sucks at his pacifier, tugging at her hair with his tiny fingers. Scully looks away, holds her son close and wills herself not to cry again. She is trying to distance herself from her son because she knows she won't be able to do it if she doesn't. William tugs at her hair and she looks away, tries to force some detachment into her embrace. She carries him to his room and puts him down in the crib. She doesn't linger. “Goodnight, sweetie,” she says quietly, and turns off the light as she leaves. 

\---

She sleeps. She doesn't know for how long; all she knows is that she is plagued with nightmares that leave her quivering on the mattress in a cold sweat. William gone, William hurt or dead, William doomed to a fate she can’t save him from. Her teeth are chattering again. For a few horrible seconds, she thinks she's already done it, that he's already gone. And then she hears William's ear-splitting cry from down the hall. 

_ It’s for the best, _ she tells herself as she climbs out of bed. _ It’s for the best, it’s for the best, it’s for the best. _

She tries. She really tries to stick to the plan. She'll feed him or change him, she tells herself, comfort him, and then she'll call Social Services. Right away. She has to do what’s best for William, she has to be a responsible mother. 

She tells herself this as she scoops William up and paces the room with him, as she changes him, as she feeds him in the kitchen. And William doesn't stop crying. His face is red, his mouth open as he wails. It gets to a point where Scully is afraid the doctors missed something, is worried that William is in pain. She is ready to call the doctor, to race him to the hospital, when William buries his face against her shoulder, snuggles into her in childhood desperation. And that is it, that is what breaks her. 

She starts to cry again, her shoulders shaking, her sobs joining in with William's. William latches onto her shirt with his fist and she sways back and forth, kissing the top of his head, and they both cry together in her kitchen. Her tears dot the top of William’s downy hair, and William holds on as if someone is coming to drag him away. 

Scully takes William back into her bedroom, climbs into bed with him. William still clutches her shirt like a lifeline, his sobs softening but not ceasing. Scully rocks him back and forth, sings to him in a soft and trembling voice. Her voice is horrible, completely out of tune, but he seems to like it. 

William slowly quiets, sucking his thumb, his cheek against her chest and his eyelids drooping. Scully kisses his head again and again as he falls asleep, wraps the quilt tight around them and burrows into the sheets. “I'm so, so sorry, sweetie,” she whispers to Will, who is fully asleep, curled up in her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

\---

She is a selfish person, but the way her son grabbed onto her reminded her of one thing: how much she wanted this. How long she prayed for this. Mulder loves their son more than anything, and she can’t take the opportunity of a family away from him, but more than that, she herself doesn’t want to give it up. This small, sweet weight in her arms, how can she give that away?

He is her son. He is her son, and she can't let him go. The idea of losing him is terrifying, but the idea of having no control, no ability to protect him at all, is more terrifying. In the past, she has barely trusted others to protect him, so why should now be any different? She would do anything for him, anything. She can't do it. She can't let him go when he is all she has left. She hopes that Mulder will come home someday, but for now, William is all she has left. 

She sings to her son softly in the dim light of the bedroom, one hand cupping his head protectively. William sleeps. She rocks him back and forth.

\---

She calls Monica in the morning to let her know she's changed her mind.


End file.
